


The Mystery of the Missing Ring OR: The Ravings of a Mostly Delusional and Entirely Fed Up Ex-Army Doctor

by shirleyholmes



Series: Chaos Theory [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Humor, Jealous John, M/M, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 07:40:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/859592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shirleyholmes/pseuds/shirleyholmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alright, so now they're dating. Sort of. A bit dating, really. Not that it makes John's life any easier. Sherlock is still a prick, half the world is still in love with him and John's just plotting the demise of that damn Blackberry, because he's legitimately concerned that Sherlock's  going to end up marrying the thing. NOT that he's interested in marrying the git himself, or that they're-- well--- </p><p>Oh, fuck off.<br/>..............</p><p>“I make you tea,” John points out.  “I clean everything around here. Hell Sherlock, I even do your laundry and I’m not entirely sure you don’t think I’m your mother, which is kind of disturbing, given—“</p><p>“Given that we shagged on the sofa 4 days, 3 hours and 23 minutes ago?”</p><p>“What, no seconds?” John asks, a trifle sourly. </p><p>“38, 39, 40—“</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mystery of the Missing Ring OR: The Ravings of a Mostly Delusional and Entirely Fed Up Ex-Army Doctor

**Author's Note:**

> a long time in coming, but here we go again. 
> 
> Sorry, John.
> 
> Partly inspired by one of my favorite quotes from the original books:
> 
> “I have always held, too, that pistol practice should be distinctly an open-air pastime; and when Homes, in one of his queer humours, would sit in an armchair with his hair-trigger and a hundred Boxer cartridges and proceed to adorn the opposite wall with a patriotic V.R. done in bullet pocks, I felt strongly that neither the atmosphere nor the appearance of our room was improved by it.” 
> 
> ― Doctor John Watson in 'The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes' by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

John Watson believes very firmly in a _very _few things— but he stands by each of these with fierce loyalty. Oh all right, maybe it’s just stubbornness—but if Mycroft is allowed to call his bravery stupidity, then John will do as he damn well pleases with the rest of his character flaws, thank you very much.__

__Anyways, the _point _is that the list of things he believes in is quite short-- he believes in Sherlock Holmes, of course, because he’s in love with the mad git and not believing in the person you’re in love with would be a nasty business. He believes that Moriarty is the greatest canker sore to ever grace the streets of London (Jack the Ripper, at least, never got the chance to flirt with the aforementioned Sherlock Holmes and John is willing to give him the benefit of doubt).___ _

____To continue (and to pretend that everything in his life does not revolve around Sherlock, though, admittedly, the fiction is wearing a bit thin) John has to remind himself that he also believes in tea in the morning and jumpers when it’s cold and in dying for your country._ _ _ _

____But today, he has, quite by chance, found the one thing he believes in above all others. It's a revelation that never occurred to him before and would likely never HAVE occurred to him, if it wasn't for his psychotic flat mate—boyfr— _no _—thing.___ _ _ _

______Because it seems, rather, that Doctor John Watson is very firmly of the opinion that pistol practice is a distinctly open-air activity. Particularly when one does it with all the temper, dramatics, and ill-disguised glee of an immature 7-year old. In fact, John suspects that 7-year-olds would be quite insulted to be compared to the over-grown, cat-like creature that, as of three days ago, has decided to become a permanent fixture on the couch. John rather thinks that the room isn’t improved by the creature’s presence, but the creature (being cat-like and endowed with all the smug superiority of intellect that cats possess), gives exactly zero fucks about what John thinks._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I make you tea,” John points out. “I clean everything around here. Hell Sherlock, I even do your laundry and I’m not entirely sure you don’t think I’m your mother, which is kind of disturbing, given—“_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Given that we shagged on the sofa 4 days, 3 hours and 23 minutes ago?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“What, no seconds?” John asks, a trifle sourly._ _ _ _ _ _

______“38, 39, 40—“_ _ _ _ _ _

______“ALRIGHT.” John takes a deep breath. Sherlock Holmes is an adorable and thoroughly obnoxious toddler and John Watson is a wounded and decorated war hero. Any mother worth her salt would tell you that this isn’t a fair fight._ _ _ _ _ _

______Sherlock turns his attentions back to pouting, already secure in his victory. And yes, alright, it’s kind of cute, for all that John wants to flatten something (though not that nose—it’s a bit perfect. And it wouldn’t do to bruise a cheekbone—or split that lip—too many fantasies about those—well, fuck his life.) He settles for pinning Sherlock to the sofa and straddling his chest._ _ _ _ _ _

______“If you’re that bored, you can open the zipper and suck my cock,” he says bluntly. Of course, sex every time Sherlock is an annoying prick-- pun unintended but accurate-- is probably the exact WRONG sort of conditioning. But it’ll shut him up for a few minutes and possibly then John can stop day-dreaming about that mouth every time Sherlock so much as glances his way._ _ _ _ _ _

______No, actually, that’s probably not going to happen anytime soon. But a man ought to be allowed to enjoy a few happy delusions once in a while and he gets less than his fair share, what with his—Sherlock--- and all._ _ _ _ _ _

______Sherlock eyes him with renewed interest. “At least you’re never dull, John,” he says and that, hopefully, will be the last thing he says for the next 20 minutes. He carefully unzips John’s trousers and presses his open mouth to the simple cotton briefs inside, laving over John’s very interested prick with his wet, pink little tongue. John’s hands wind themselves into Sherlock’s hair. It will never not be fascinating, the look of utter concentration on Sherlock’s face as he affectionately nuzzles John’s groin. Affectionate—that’s it. Even if the sentiment is possibly directed entirely at John’s cock, it’s not something he would have thought he’d ever see on that face._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Don’t be ridiculous, John,” Sherlock murmurs against John’s briefs, the vibration of that sinful voice sending pleasant little shocks through John’s entire body—“Of course that isn’t the only reason I’m interested.” He grins wolfishly and slips up John’s shirt, so that he can kiss his bare stomach. “You also make wonderful tea.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Shut up,” John manages. He pushes Sherlock down again and Sherlock obediently opens up his mouth and proceeds to thoroughly wet the cotton, his fingers digging into John’s thighs. He kisses the just visible head of John’s cock and things are just getting interesting, when there’s an all too familiar buzzing from the table._ _ _ _ _ _

______Sherlock pulls away immediately, his eyes glazing over with excitement._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Oh no—“ John says, with genuine alarm. “See here, I’m sure it can wait 5 minutes--“_ _ _ _ _ _

______Sherlock gives him an annoyed look. “But JOHN,” he exclaims, the capital letters ear-shatteringly clear. “There’s a CASE.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______………………………….._ _ _ _ _ _

______10 minutes and one very short wank later, they’re on their way and Sherlock is going off at a mile a minute about drunk fairies and pink flamingos doing the macarena—or he could be, for all that John is paying attention. For Sherlock, for all his genius, little suspects that John is currently otherwise occupied with plotting the demise of something very dear to the detective. Namely, it is the callous and cold-hearted murder of Sherlock’s 0900 Blackberry._ _ _ _ _ _

______It is, practically speaking, completely irrational for John to be so jealous of an electronic device. But the good thing about living with a mad genius is that John feels entirely justified in being irrational, if only to even the scales._ _ _ _ _ _

______So he settles in and fumes and glares at the bane of his existence, cradled oh-so tenderly in that gloved hand. For if there’s is one thing that Sherlock is entirely devoted to, it is that damn mobile and John would like nothing better than to douse it in kerosene and set it comfortably on the stove. He reckons that Sherlock has set more ridiculous things on that stove anyways—compared to human phalanges, electronics should be little challenge to that long-suffering appliance._ _ _ _ _ _

______Of course, Sherlock will no doubt just end up with an even MORE updated variation of the same device and this time, it might even be the kind that’ll talk to him. John has a very reasonable horror of such an event, as he’s pretty sure that if Sherlock could talk to the mobile as well, he’d end up marrying the thing._ _ _ _ _ _

______Not that John wants to marry Sherlock himself, of course. That seems like a vaguely ridiculous notion for a relationship that has lasted all of two weeks so far and included roughly four sexual encounters, one of which John distinctly remembers as being more of a threesome with the laptop._ _ _ _ _ _

______Hell, Sherlock could probably replace him entirely if he could figure out a way to have sex with his damned gadgets—no, John doesn’t want to think about that, that’s weird._ _ _ _ _ _

______Of course, now that the concept’s been introduced, he then proceeds to spend entirely too MUCH time on how that could be accomplished instead, by which point his jeans are fairly uncomfortable again. He’s not proud of himself for it, but there’s the sad truth—anything involving Sherlock Holmes naked is, for all intents and purposes, a sexual fantasy on par with fucking Catherine Zeta-Jones at this point._ _ _ _ _ _

______And John doesn’t even want to fuck Catherine Zeta-Jones anyways, he just wants to fuck his –Sherlock---his brain still short fuses at “boyfriend”--so the metaphor is a bit of a fail._ _ _ _ _ _

______But he's gone and digressed quite a bit there._ _ _ _ _ _

______The salient points here are that John is still a bit jealous and Sherlock is still a wanker and that that Blackberry is still fucking dead as it sits._ _ _ _ _ _


End file.
